The Fairest Of Them All
by Nicoletta Katherine
Summary: The people of the Capitol are bored; it's post-Hunger Games and they need entertainment. That entertainment comes in the form of a new game, all centered around finding Daivat, the President's grandson a wife. Ardaigh, a healer from District 7 is stunned when she's chosen to be one of the 3 from her district.
1. Attention Citizens

Hello, readers! :) I got the idea to write this story while reading "The Selection" by Kiera Cass (awesome book btw, you should read it!) and at the same time reading Mockingjay (for the third time). It hit me that there had to be some kind of pageant entertainment in the Capitol (I mean, come on they basically eat, breathe and drink fashion there). So, while brainstorming different ideas I came up with this. I would really appreciate it if you guys would comment, so I know to continue with the story! I have Chapter 2 all ready to go, I'm just waiting to see if people are interested in it!

Thank you soooo much for reading! 3 xx. -Nicki

"Attention, citizens of Panem."

That's the way the message started. That message that all the citizens of the country watched just before dinner time in their town squares, homes and businesses. I was walking out of the apothecary shop at the time.

At first everyone thought it was simply another announcement about District 12's winners from the Hunger Games; that they were visiting us or something like that (as if we actually care). But then, they announced that there was to be another sort of hunger games.

It's inventor, Salvatore J'Adore named it, "Who is the fairest of them all?" After all, only the prettiest of the girls in Panem will even be considered. So, I guess that leaves most of us out. Certainly a girl from District 1, 2 or 4 will win.

President Snow's only grandchild, his daughter's son, Daivat is fast approaching his twenty-first birthday. The President wants him to find a wife in this next year. To torture our districts a little more—specifically the female population—we are forced to send all the girls aged seventeen to twenty (who are not married or engaged) to the square tomorrow. It's not a normal reaping. It's different.

First they'll check everyone in. Anyone that isn't married or engaged and isn't present will be arrested and publicly humiliated. Then, they go down the lines and check for makeup. It isn't allowed. You are only allowed to brush and do your hair how you want; no face-changing allowed. So, that eliminates most of Districts 1, 2 and 4 too actually.

The people that check are the top stylists from the capitol. There's a rumor that one of them is Katniss's stylist, Cinna (however that's very unlikely considering he's with her on her tour.) They're looking for natural beauty that they can work with. They'll pick everyone worthy in each district and gather the select girls into the Justice Buildings. Then they'll narrow it down to three per district. Then one per district. No one knows how they're narrowing those three down though. Then the twelve stylists will bicker over which girls they want. Once the stylists have their girls it begins. It sounds like those beauty pageants I've heard of. Apparently they happen all the time in the Capitol.

I think it's safe to say that almost no one here is going to get picked. District 7 supplies wood. We mostly all have callused hands, muscular bodies and cuts from pine needles and branches that never seem to heal.

As I walk into my family's cabin I notice those bruises, scratches and scars on my arms. They're more like badges, representing what I've done to help my family survive.

I myself have been lucky enough to be in my last year of school. I don't work as much as some of the other girls because my dad is the leader of a logging squad. He brings in enough money to keep me, my mother, older brother, Colin and younger sister, Amelie fed. Though, Colin helps a lot. And I do my part; working at the apothecary shop and helping the local healers.

I work as a healer's assistant most of the time, so my hands aren't as calloused as the rest. They are worn from tending to wounds with harsh antibiotics and botanicals for three years. I also take my brother's place in keeping logs on our fire most of the time, since he's out chopping with my father for our wood and the lumber that they ship off to the Capitol. My hands are stained with the herbs I mix. My skin is dry and cracked. It's not like we can afford lotions and medicines to treat our broken down bodies.

"What if they pick Ara?" My twelve year old sister, Amelie asks as we eat dinner.

I tense and stop poking my squirrel meat with a fork. The already awkward silence gets ten times more tense. My father clears his throat and says, "Let's just hope your sister isn't as pretty as everyone says."

I almost laugh. "So now all the girls want to make themselves as ugly as possible." I say sarcastically.

My mother says, "Well it's not like Daivat is ugly…"

My brother growls, "No, but he'll treat his wife like any other piece of property that belongs to him. It's sickening. He and his grandfather are both cruel and sadistic. I'd wish that marriage upon no girl…"

The rest of the dinner is spent exchanging nervous glances with one another. I help mother clean up and then she joins Amelie and I in our tiny cubby of a room. Ame lays her head on mother's lap while I look in the mirror, as if it can help me see the future.

"Do you think they'll pick me? Honestly?" I ask. Everyone has always called me beautiful. That's the problem. People always say I have the biggest eyes they've ever seen—the darkest of blue, too just like mother. She also says I have a flawless complexion and naturally pink-tinted cheeks, like she did when she was my age. Though, I just see them as chubby. My dad always takes credit for passing on his lovely light almond-colored, wavy locks of hair. My sister always remarks on my petite figure—being only five foot two give or take. She says she'll never lose her baby fat like I did. I'm sure she will someday, though.

My mother stares long and hard at me for a long time. She studies me, looking at myself in the partially broken glass mirror.

"Do you want to truth?" she asks softly.

Upon meeting her eyes I see she has a tear trailing down her naturally pink cheek. I nod silently and she says, "Yes."

It is the truth. I know I'll be considered. But surely the mayor's daughter, Diamante is the prettiest girl in District 7… right? Right.

"I don't know what I'd do… I—I don't want to leave you." I feel the sting of tears and hold back. I'm not one for crying. Seeing my mother and sister cry are probably the only things that could possibly make me break down. But now isn't the time for that. I can't make them upset. It will only add to the anxiety.

"Let's not talk about it," she says quietly. I nod in agreement and join them on the bed. Kae makes me sing her a lullaby and soon she's fast asleep in my mother's arms. We lay her down and tuck her into bed.

Before my mother leaves to go to bed she stops to kiss me goodnight and hugs me tightly. "Remember, Ara that no matter what happens… we'll always be with you." She stuffs something into my hand and kisses my forehead sweetly before leaving.

As I lay back in bed and prop my head against the pillow I open my fist. In my hand is my grandmother's gold necklace-the one molded into the shape of a newly bloomed rose. It hangs from a nearly invisible, shimmering golden chain and looks magnificent in the moonlight. Mother said she would give it to me when the time was right, since she always kept it safely locked away for fear of someone stealing it. One time, she said it was only right that I have it, since my name means rose in her ancestors' ancient language.

Clutching it tightly in my hand, I pray to whatever entity might be listening that it doesn't get taken away from me tomorrow. I'll need a piece of grandmother with me, to keep me strong.

I just need to stop thinking it.

And I thought the reaping for hunger games was nerve-wrecking. But people in the twelve districts are actually rooting for one of their girls to win. Winning means funds provided to their district by the Capitol. That means less people starving and more people living longer lives.

I know my district would definitely sacrifice a girl like me just to get the food they so desperately need. They wouldn't give it a second thought.

And don't get me wrong, like my mother said, Daivat isn't ugly at all. Dark blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a body to rival that of District 1's Career Tributes? He's no mutant. However, being his wife… isn't such a lovely prospect. He's cocky, arrogant and manipulative like his grandfather (at least from what I've seen and heard). He'll stop at nothing to get what he wants—including a wife.


	2. Specifics

"Give us some specifics, boy," Daivat's grandfather says from across the room, sipping on his spirits and assorted drinks. The gamemaker, Salvatore sits in a chair across from Daivat, studying him curiously. Five other gamemakers are scattered around the room, listening. Plutarch Heavensbee is even there, listening in on the conversations.

Daivat leans back in the lounge chair and ponders this. What does he want his wife to be like? She certainly needs to be beautiful. But he wants something more…

"I want her to be unique. I want her to be the dazzling gem of the Capitol. She needs to be bright and intelligent—no air-headed girls that don't have their own thoughts and opinions." Satisfied with his answer, he takes a sip of Brandy.

His grandfather says, "Be careful what you wish for. Thoughts and opinions can ruin this nation, Daivat." Then President Snow addresses Salvatore. "She must be obedient. No rebels or smart-mouths."

Salvatore and his gamemakers jot down the notes on their electronic touch pads.

"So, tell me again how this is going to go?" Daivat asks curiously, furrowing his blonde-ish eyebrows. "I will have the final say in the end, correct?"

Salvatore nods immediately. "Yes, yes, of course. All you need to know for right now is that you and your grandfather are going to choose one girl per district - there will be three from each, but you will narrow them down to one. The rest we will tell you as we go along."

"And don't forget me, Salvatore," President Snow says from across the room. Salvatore halts momentarily. Swallowing hard, he tries to recover.

"Of course, President Snow, you will always have a say." Salvatore clears his throat nervously and continues his speech. "Also, we've made wedding arrangements so that you will marry the girl exactly a month after she is announced the victor. It will be early June by then and just before the next Hunger games."

"Good," Daivat says with a smile. "Can't wait to see what the stylists pick out."


	3. The Reaping

The lovely sound of birds of early spring awake me. It's different to finally hear them in the morning again. Winter is always so bleak here, since District 7 is in Panem's very harsh Northwest region. Needless to say they aren't many birds during our frigid winters.

In about two to three months (depending on the date set) we'll be holding the 75th Hunger Games. Today, a day late in April, marks another kind of games. Something just as nerve-wrecking.

Oh how I wish I was a child again…

"Ara?" My little sister whispers as I sit up and get out of bed.

"Get some more sleep, Ame." I whisper back and she shifts in bed. "I'm going to start breakfast," I say tiredly with a slight yawn.

Shuffling into the kitchen I find my mother already at the fire place, working on frying our last five eggs. Father is in his broken down, tattered arm chair, reading a copy of the Capitol's newspaper. As I head towards mother I hear him snort. He slaps the paper down on the tiny wooden table in front of him. I glance down and get distracted by the image of our lovely soon-to-be president, Daivat on the front page.

His grin is bright, revealing perfectly white and straightened teeth. His eyes look out towards the crowds surrounding the mansion in appreciation. He has his grandfather's stare in that sense.

I see the way he reacts to them so arrogantly, waving and grinning like all of Panem wants to marry him.

He's wrong.

Because I don't.

"Has anyone said how these games are to be played?" My mother asks quietly. My brother staggers into the room, giving a loud yawn as he takes a seat in one of the hard wooden chairs.

My father shrugs, "No. The only information everyone was given was the things they told us over the announcement. Everyone's taking it as simply a beauty contest…"

"If it's a fight to the death then I'd rather die," I mumble.

My mother says, "Ara. Look at me."

I take my eyes off of the eggs and meet her eyes perfectly, since we're the same height. She gives me a look that makes me regret even mumbling that statement.

"If it comes down to that. I want you to fight. It's not worth your life. Plus, I heard that for every week you stay in the competition your family gets food, water and money."

She holds my gaze intensely until I tear my eyes away and flip the eggs. I say, "Either way my life will be over… and that's just another rumour."

"But life in the Capitol would be better than death," my father says gruffly.

I take the eggs out and place them on little dishes. One per person in the house. Amelie seems to be drawn into the kitchen by the smells of fresh food.

"How do you know that the afterlife isn't better?" I challenge him.

My brother stops the conversation, biting back anger and frustration. "Can we just please stop talking about this?"

Everyone agrees and we eat breakfast trying to make conversation about other things… but what is there? How the logging business is doing? It's fine. Even though, most people in District 7 still don't eat nearly as well as District 1 or 2 or 4, we live a pretty good life compared to those in 12 and 11.

As the time nears late afternoon—two o clock is when we must be in the square—my mother pulls me into my room alone.

"Let me do your hair," she says, starting to brush it with her own bristle brush. It doesn't need much, so she simply leaves it down and wavy, falling down my back and shoulder like an almond-colored waterfall.

Then she walks out of the room and comes back in with the most elaborate, prettiest dress she owns. She didn't even let me wear it for the reaping last year. In fact, until now she hasn't even let me see it.

"Mother," I start. "The point is to make me look ugly, not pretty."

"No matter what you put on, you're still going to be a possibility for them, Ara," she says solemnly. I want to disagree but I know I can't. I've already had a marriage offer from one of the other logger's sons.

In all my life I never imagined that I would _wish_ to be unattractive.

"But Diamante is definitely more attractive than me," I say insistently. "And she's a mayor's daughter. She _wants_ to marry Daivat, just like all of the other Capitol-lovers."

"Maybe once they start to narrow it down you'll be sent back home…" I know she'll be the worst to react if I leave. Never mind Amelie, my mother would be heartbroken. I'm her first born daughter; the one that helps cook and clean. I even helped her birth my little sister.

But I try not to imagine that possibility.

Slipping into the soft cotton fabric, which is a dulled shade of yellow, I let her tie the ribbon that fastens it to me in the back. She pulls the ribbon into a bow, making my waist look even tinier than it already is.

I am not thankful for this.

"Can I at least make myself look fat?" I ask desperately.

She almost laughs but instead just says, "They would find the stuffing when they patted you down, Ara."

I sigh and look into the mirror at the pretty girl in the yellow dress. The girl that would most likely be picked for the first round and then weeded out afterwards. At least, that's what I'm hoping will happen. I keep telling myself there are far more attractive girls my age around here. It gives me a little assurance; makes me feel a little safer.

At one-fifty the bell sounds, just like for the reaping before the Hunger Games. People begin to reluctantly come out of their houses and walk towards the square. It will only take my family and I about ten minutes to get there. We live quite on the outskirts of District 7, but the square isn't in the center of our district. It's more near the edge.

I spot one of my best friends since birth, Violet walking out of her house with her little brother in toe. Her parents follow the pair close behind. Her long, straight black hair swishes as she walks. It's come to almost her backend now and still manages to never tangle or curl. I think of her chances of getting picked. She might. However, once they discover all the burn marks on her arms and chest from her family's bakery business they might send her home. Other than that she has a pretty face. She even kind of looks like me; dainty little nose, a light spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks, a perfectly round face and perfect rosy cheeks and feminine chin. We could be mistaken for sisters if she didn't have jet black hair and eyes the color of tree bark.

As we walk I make it my job to point out other, prettier girls. I make a list in my head of who could get chosen before me and who had a greater chance of going to the Capitol.

Diamante is the first one I note in the back of my mind. She'll certainly be one.

Emery Finch could be another one. She's got the most feminine facial features I've ever seen in this District, and cat-like hazel eyes that almost look golden in the sunlight. She hardly does any work because her father manages the lumber going into the transport to the Capitol.

Odessa Pine is another one that might make it that far. She's always flirting her way out of doing work. Though, if they check her virginity they might be displeased. But hey, maybe Daivat wants someone with experience.

As I go down the list in my head I try to think of all the things that are wrong with _me._ Take for instance my dry, cracked hands and irregularly cut nails. There's all the herb stains—that were mostly washed off in last night's bath unfortunately. My skin isn't lightly tanned or glowing like other girls'—just very fair in complexion. I have some bruising from where I've held logs for the fireplace in my arms or where patients have held onto me tightly while a wound is being closed. They're from a few nights ago… but then I realize those are all reversible things. Things that can be fixed by a skilled team of stylists.

I say goodbye to my family with kisses and hugs.

"Don't worry, Ara. You'll be fine," my father assures me. My mother doesn't say anything. She just clasps the necklace around my neck. I wonder if the Capitol officials will take it away from me when I'm evaluated.

My sister hugs me so tightly I can almost feel the air being squeezed out of my lungs. My brother—who normally never shows affection towards anyone—hugs me too. He whispers, "You're strong, Ara. You can make it through anything."

"Thanks," I whisper back into his ear before we pull away and I head for the line of girls.

Violet ends up being in front of me. They're taking people's blood like at the Hunger Games reaping. It's a pretty long line. I had no idea there were this many girls around my age in District 7. Maybe I do stand a chance of being weeded out…

"Ready?" Vi says quietly.

I shake my head slightly. "Not at all."

There's nervous murmurs about whether this competition will be a fight to the death or a beauty pageant. Some girls gush over how handsome Daivat is. Some girls are already crying and whimpering things about wanting to go home. I know some of them have boyfriends, but have not filled out engagement or marriage papers yet, so they were forced to come today.

I'm happy to say that all those years of being too stubborn to cry have paid off. Even though my mother chides me for not releasing my emotions I know it's a valuable skill. Right now my expression reads as bored, unlike the flustered look that's on Violet's face right now. Her face is turning redder by the second.

I feel the familiar prick in my finger as I reach the table. They tell me to follow the roped path. It goes into the Justice Building. I guess this isn't like a Hunger Games reaping because our families are standing where we would usually stand. Our Capitol escort for the Hunger Games, Atticus Archer is standing at the doors to the Justice Building, his hands clasped in front of him and his chin up regally. He's known to be the nicest escort, but also a bit like District 12 and 9's escorts—refined and couture.

The line into the building is just as long. But before five minutes is up something flashes across the screens they've set up.

Atticus's voice rings out over the speakers. "Attention, District 7! We have our first tribute of the day! Miss. Diamante Buckley!"

Diamante's face flashes onto the screen. She doesn't even look shocked. She looks… happy.

"Won't she be happy to be with all the refined scum in the Capitol," Violet mumbles. I almost slap her for saying that with a million peacekeepers surrounding us. But I know that will only make things worse. So, I simply nod my head in agreement and stare up at Diamante in all her glory. She smiles into the camera, blinking her bright blue eyes rapidly in excitement.

A long period of time goes by before someone else is picked—someone else I thought of. Emery Finch is depicted on the screen. Though, she looks more sad than happy. I remember, she's had a crush on one of the boys at school since we were young. I bet they started to talk right before this happened. She must be really upset about that. I know I would be… if there were anyone decent by my standards around here. Most of the boys are too arrogant for my taste.

Take the one that asked to marry me, for example. Oleic Jacoby is his name. He's the son of a squad leader who is friends with my father. He's also the biggest jerk I've ever met. Needless to say I told him flat-out no.

Two more girls get picked; Lizabelle Maple and Dicey Larkwren. Both are far more primped and primed than Vi and I. Then another girl, Cecilia Wood gets chosen. She's the only one I've seen so far with bright red auburn hair. The brightness of it on the screen almost makes me jump. A few more girls get called out and flashed onto the screen.

I jump when someone says, "Next!"

Two peacekeepers take me inside. They let me sit outside a room in a chair next to three other girls that were before me. They go first and then it's my turn.

Upon entering I'm greeted with an, "Oh, thank god!"

It startles me and I look up to see a man in his late forties smiling at me. I furrow my brows in concern. He says cheerfully, "I have a good feeling about this one."

_Oh no_, I think,_ this can't be happening. He can't actually like me, right?_

His two female assistants grab me roughly by the arms and lead me over to him. He takes out a tiny flashlight and inspects my eyes.

"Beautiful blue eyes, the darkest blue I've ever seen. The color of the night sky! Note that!" he comments. Another girl jots that down on a notepad.

He asks me to remove my dress. I'm left in just my bra and underwear. It's cold and goose bumps surface on my skin. He apologizes, surprisingly and says, "Perfect complexion with adorable little freckles across the nose and cheeks. Note that, Lexia... a beautiful thick head of hair… golden, light brown in color… minor bruising around the arms that can be reversed quickly… dry skin on the hands and wrists…"

He looks up at me and asks, "You don't know what bra size you are, do you, dear?"

I blink in response, not even knowing what he's talking about. My bra is supposed to have a size? I guess I'm on the middle-range because I have some substantial breasts.

"I guess about a B," he says, nodding to the note-taker. "You're one of the curvier ones… hour glass figure… how did you get all that muscle mass?"

"W—what?" I ask, unsure of myself. I mean, it's not like you can get fat or gain muscle when there's barely anything to eat. I wonder if he's kidding around…

He chuckles, "How are you so muscular? Do you work outside?"

"Sometimes," I say hesitantly. "I try to help my brother and father."

"Well it's certainly paid off," he says with a smile. "You have a gorgeous figure… some slight bruising and scratches but those can be fixed within hours with the correct treatment."

He takes out a measuring rope and measures my waist, height and breasts. I'm surprised to find that I'm actually shorter than I'd originally thought. I was off by about two inches. I'm actually five foot one and a half to be exact.

The man seems unable to control his excitement as I pull my dress back on. He yells, "We have another tribute!"

Suddenly I feel the air escape my lungs. My mouth goes dry and I stare at him in shock. It doesn't really register with me until a camera man bursts through the doorway and is pointing a camera in my face. I must look like a deer, cornered by a hunter.

I feel the peacekeepers tug me along, out of the room. I stumble and plead in whispers, "Please, no…"

I can already imagine what my family is going through right now. Mother is probably crying… but there's still hope for me yet. They still have to narrow it down to three. There's a ton of us by the time the reaping is over—the first stage at least.

I'm seated in a private room with the rest of the girls. We're basically crammed in; it's very uncomfortable. Through the one window I can see that it's getting dark. I wonder if my family is still there…

No one says a single word. Not one statement. Not even whispers.

The man starts with the first girls, which means I'm near the beginning. By the time he gets to me it's apparent that whatever he's doing in there is leaving a mark on everyone. Even Diamante comes back into the room with a stunned look on her face.

When I enter the room I notice that it's not the same one I was in before. It has a cushioned examination chair, like at the apothecary shop in the middle of the District. I see the same people; him and his assistants.

The first thing he says is, "I'm going to need to ask you to remove your undergarment. You don't have to take off the dress this time."

I hesitate before deciding I better do it or get arrested. I slip off my underwear. One of the women takes it and places it on a metal table. Another woman leads me over to the chair and almost has to force me into it. She grabs my ankles and places my feet in two holders so that my legs are wide open.

I suddenly realize that we use this all the time to help women deliver children.

"W—what are you doing?" I can't help but ask and try to close my legs. I see she's tied them to the holders though. I feel suddenly vulnerable and exposed. I don't like it very much, even though she's a girl, too.

"Just checking to see if you are still a virgin. You'll feel slight pressure. That's just me inserting the speculum."

"The what?" I ask. My healer never told me anything about any speculum. But before she can respond I feel something being thrust up into me and gasp. I clench the sides of the chair with my hands, letting out noises of discomfort. "Please take it out, it hurts," I ask politely.

She draws back and the pain ceases. I collapse my legs together once I'm un-tied. She laughs to herself, "I can't wait to see how you girls react to your first time with a man if you can't even take that…" She smiles at the stylist, "She's 100% pure, sir."

The statement alarms me even more. Does it really hurt that much? Mother never explained it to me exactly… a bunch of girls in school sort of spread the word when I was thirteen.

They weigh me this time, too.

"Ah," the man says, "One-hundred and fifteen pounds. Perfect percent of muscle, too."

I'm sent away once they're done poking and prodding me. The next dozen or more girls go in, coming back out looking as stunned as I am… well, except for Odessa, but she's done it before. I'm sure they've found out by now and she won't be getting any further. My best guess would be Emery Finch, Diamante Buckley and Cecilia Wood are going to be the final three.

As everyone begins to get restless and I'm near falling asleep I hear talking just outside the door. The man that inspected all of us comes bursting in with Atticus and another Capitol person.

"I know you must all be tired from waiting here all this time and such… so now it is time that I announce the three finalists that will be taken to the Capitol and further narrowed down there." He clears his throat, adding even more suspense to the already tense situation.

I grip the velvet cushion on the chair as he says, "Diamante Buckley, Emery Finch," _and Cecilia Wood… right?_

"And Ardaigh Fyrn."

_What?_

As all the other girls heave a sigh of relief I feel Emery reach over and touch my hand. I meet her eyes, which are filling with tears. She must really love that boy—her neighbor.

This is the one time when we both wish we hadn't grown up to be pretty.

"We will be presenting you in less than a minute. All the others must leave first and then we shall go out on the presenting patio outside," Atticus says in a refined, Capitol accent.

The other girls are herded out of the room, throwing us pity-filled glances. As if they actually have some apathy. They're just happy they didn't get picked. They have no idea what it's like right now. I can barely breathe and my heart is about to pound itself out of my chest. Beads of sweat start to form on my forehead. I can feel them, just like when I heave wood off the holder in our yard to bring inside.

"Are we ready?" Atticus asks, motioning towards the door. Diamante is the first one up out of her seat. She's all smiles and handshakes. What a mayor's daughter…

Emery and I hesitantly get up and follow Atticus and Diamante out of the room. In no time at all we are standing outside in the cool night air. Spotlights blaze on us and camera men focus their lenses towards the stage.

Someone is counting down behind us, telling Atticus, "And District 7's tributes being filmed live in three… two… one…"

"Good Evening, all!" Atticus booms into the microphone in his sophisticated drawl. "We have our District 7 Tributes, all three of them, ready to be deployed to the Capitol! We have Diamante Buckley," he says first. Her face flashes onto the screen. She smiles and waves at the camera. I'm too distracted with trying to pinpoint my family in the crowd to care about the lenses focused intently on me.

* * *

"Definitely not that one… she's beautiful really, but," Daivat says to his grandfather as they watch District 7's first tribute flash onto the screen. "I don't know… a bit too loving of the cameras… we'll see…"

His grandfather chuckles, "Of course…"

The next girl flashes onto the screen, revealing a far less confident face, with teary eyes and a solemn expression.

"Too depressed," Daivat says simply. "Don't even bother bringing her here," he orders Salvatore.

The last girl is hopeful, with more of a stunned look on her face. She seems distracted and looks into the crowd with desperate eyes. She's looking for something—her family, probably. But it's her eyes that draw him in. They sparkle under the spotlights, wide open and big with an innocent look about them. But before he can say something her face is cut off by the camera shooting back to Atticus.

"That one… she's in the top twelve," Daivat says with a nod. "As long as the interviews go well, I want her in the finals."

Salvatore takes his commands and calls Atticus shortly after the live feed goes from District 7 to District 8.

"Yes, he wants to narrow it down to the mayor's daughter and that Ardaigh girl… no, the other one is not to be transported to the Capitol. That would be a waste of time," Salvatore says into his communications device. Atticus agrees, happy that he won't have to worry about sending the other two home anymore. Now, he can focus on just one girl instead of three.

District 1, 2, 4, 5, 6 and 9 end up bringing all two girls along and the rest of the districts are to bring three to the Capitol.

* * *

Shock isn't the word for my feelings right now. I feel dizzy as Atticus takes me by the arm and leads me back into the Justice Building. I take note that only Diamante is being led in after me. That confuses my already foggy mind even more.

"Miss. Fyrn; Miss. Buckley," Atticus says as we enter the same room I waited in before with the girls. "You two are our semi-finalists for District 7. I received a call from the Capitol that told me to make sure that you were the only ones to be taken along."

My jaw drops in a very un-ladylike way, while Diamante squeals in excitement and he explains, "It happened to a few other Districts, also."

But that doesn't help. I stutter and stumble over the words wanting to spill from my mouth as he begins to walk out the door. He shouts over his shoulder, "Your family and friends will be in to say goodbye soon!"

The door slams shut. The loud noise hides my first attempt at covering up a quiet sob. I can't cry, not in front of Amelie at least—or my mother.

"Ara!" Amelie screams, bursting into the room and throwing her arms around my waist. She clenches tightly and won't let go. I manage to tear her away and sit down on the plush chair. I take her face in my hands. The tears rolling down her cheeks only serve to add to the stinging behind my eyes.

"Amelie, listen to me," I say in a calm tone of voice. It's taking everything in me to keep my voice from quivering. "I'll be fine. I'll come back home. Everything will be okay, alright? I love you."

"I love you too," she chokes on her tears, falling upon me with another embrace.

I stand and embrace the rest of my family. Surprisingly, Colin holds me the longest.

He whispers, "I know I never tell you often, but I love you, Ardaigh. You're still my first baby sister."

I know our time is nearing an end, so I say, "I'll be alright. Worry about feeding yourselves, please. And whatever you see happen on the screens… just don't cry for me, okay?"

None of them can make that promise, but they try to nod in slight agreement. A peacekeeper comes to the door and tells us our time is up. They all give me a kiss on the cheek before being escorted away.

Violet; my one and only friend is the next one to come and visit me. She enters with tears leaking out of her eyes. I know she's trying to look strong but she's never been an emotionally resilient person like I am. She's too sensitive.

"I don't want to lose you; I love you," she says. "You're my best friend, Ara…"

I give her a hug and reply, "You're stronger than you think, Vi. Please don't cry for me, my family is already doing that. I don't want anyone else to."

"But what if they make it a fight to the death or… or…."

"They won't," I say, half to reassure myself and half to reassure Violet. Okay, so it's more to reassure myself.

She sighs, "The Capitol isn't merciful, Ara…"

I shush her and the peacekeeper comes in, announcing the time is up. We say goodbye and she leaves.

Atticus enters and states that we will be leaving at once for the Capitol. I only nod in response and follow him out, touching my grandmother's necklace gently. The cool metal feels unlike anything I've ever touched before. It's genuine gold. I notice that no one has said anything about it. Though, this isn't the Hunger Games. It's just… a beauty contest, to be honest. Right? Yeah, I'll just keep telling myself that…

The ride in the elevator is awkwardly silent. It's just me, Diamante, five peacekeepers, Atticus and the lady whose name I have yet to know.

Then we go outside.

"Ardaigh! Ardaigh! Diamante! Diamante!" Cameramen and reporters shout and yell our names right up until we arrive at the train station, just a short walk from the Justice Building.

By the time we get on the train my mind is racing, my palms are sweaty and I can barely breathe. I feel like I'm going to vomit. Diamante, on the other hand is beaming and giggling.

"Not one for attention and cameras, are you?" Atticus's voice echoes behind me. I simply nod.

Then, he turns to Diamante and chuckles, "You, on the other hand remind me of Daivat himself."

He motions for us to sit at the table, where I see not one plate of food for each of us, but ten or more, stacked on iron plate holders and scattered around the big table.

Food. Tons of the stuff, just sitting there waiting for me.

We sit and I look up at him, silently wondering if this is really all for me, or just reserved for him. Even Diamante looks overwhelmed but the amount of meat, cheese, vegetables and bread before her. We both are probably wondering the same thing; is this a joke? Knowing the Capitol they _would_ pull something like that.

But he simply nods and motions towards the wonderful delicacies sitting in glimmering silver plates. "Go ahead," he drawls in a refined Capitol accent.

As I begin to pick out one of each delectable meat, vegetable and sweet on the table he speaks again.

"Now, Ardaigh; Diamante I just want you to know that anything you want to say can be said in front of us. Winnie and I are now your advisors. You can trust us with anything—we and your stylists will be like a family to you from now on," he says quite softly.

I look up to see his eyes trained on me. Winnie is beside him, jotting down notes—about what I have no idea. What I do know is that this chicken breast is deliciously juicy…

"Uh… that man from the reaping won't be a stylist, right?" I ask, wincing at the thought. Diamante shudders beside me. I'm guessing she didn't take a liking to him, either.

He chuckles, "Oh absolutely not. The stylists that will be bidding for the twelve of the finalists will all be different. They'll be ones that haven't done the reaping process nor the Hunger Games. They'll be fresh and brand new, ready to set the stage for something spectacular."

"Oh," is all I can say in response. That was more of a response than I needed.

He walks away with Winnie and lets Diamante and I gorge our little hearts out. But when we finally stop; completely stuffed, I feel as if it's all going to come back up. I haven't had that full of a meal in… well… my entire life. With the way my family and I have eaten it's amazing I grew breasts, a rear end and muscle at all. Oh, the wonders of womanhood.

Diamante turns to me and says, "So, why aren't you excited?"

I look over at her, seeing that her question is completely serious. She's staring at me like I'm strange. Little does she know, I think _she_ is strange for wanting to marry him.

I answer, "I like home… and I… I don't even know him."

"Well, I heard he's going to get to know us," she insists with a bright smile. "But, hey if you don't want him I'll take him."

I give her a half-hearted smile. "You can have him."

"Are we all stuffed, darlings?!" A familiar squeaky voice asks.

Winnie comes back, flipping her honey blonde, pink tinted hair over one shoulder and smiling. "Come on, I'll show you your compartments," she says happily.

I, a little groggy from gorging myself, wander behind her and Diamante until we arrive at a door down the hall. It opens to reveal nothing like I've ever seen before. The bed is bigger than mine and Amelie's bedroom altogether. Soft satin sheets and luxurious fabrics coat the comfy-looking mattress, with pillows to match. It's dark, with the silky dark red curtains blocking out the light of the moon. The lights are dimmed, making me sway with sleepiness.

"Your bathroom and closet are both over there," Winnie says, pointing to two doors on the right side of the room, on either side of the bureau.

I nod and she leaves me to stand, in awe of it all. The first thing I do is turn on the projector screen, sitting on the bureau. It flashes on to a dramatic fiction show at first. I turn it on to the most-watched channel; the Capitol's official news/entertainment channel.

They're in the middle of a recap of today's reapings. And I'm on next. They show three pretty girls from District 6, who look more confident than me. They actually look happy to be nominated. Though, I can only imagine the conflicts that are bound to arise during their time on the train. Putting three pretty girls like Diamante together is a bad idea. She only gets along with me because she knows I don't want this and won't fight for it.

Then there's me. There on the screen, looking like a deer trapped under a hunter's gaze. My big eyes look even more wide as I scan the crowd for my family. The commentator—including the voice of Caesar Flickerman.

"Ah, such beautiful eyes!" One shouts, "Certainly fit for Daivat to gaze into, hm?"

"Definitely, my friend, she's absolutely stunning, and so is the mayor's daughter, Diamante. The meaning of her name does her great justice! A sparkling gemstone, she is!"

Of course I would get cut off thanks to Diamante. I'm half grateful for it and half hating her for being so damn flawless.

But I guess she's the definition of beauty to the people in the Capitol. I don't know why I'm even here. She's far more beautiful than me. I'm just… normal. There's nothing truly _stunning_ about me, so I don't know what those commentators were talking about.

Maybe I'll wake up and discover it's all just a dream.


	4. The Capitol

**First off, thank you soooooo soooo soooo much to everyone that's reading and commenting :) it means so much to me! I spend a great amount (probably an unhealthy amount) of time developing my plot and characters and all that complicated stuff. Thank you for all the comments, especially! **

**Yes, Katniss & Peeta and some of the other tributes will be making an appearance (*cough cough*Johanna) and I'm planning on continuing this story through to Mockingjay (if you haven't noticed I this story begins near the start of Catching Fire).**

**And ummmm yeah I think that's it :D keep commenting! I'm always open to critiques and suggestions!**

My hope that all of the occurrences of yesterday were just a dream—nightmare, actually—is crushed. Winnie is outside the door of my compartment, calling out for me. She says it's time for breakfast. And, at the sound of food—not to mention the smell—I get up the motivation to roll (literally) out of bed. I hit the floor so hard that it jostles the sleepiness out of me.

The food from last night is still trying to digest in my system, so I plan to eat slowly. My stomach already hurts at the thought of more food being piled into it.

"Good Morning," Atticus nods curtly. He takes a sugar cube and places it in his tea cup. The smell of all the breakfast selections alone makes me salivate.

"Morning," I reply softly, taking a seat across from him at the big table. Diamante is already in the seat beside me, daintily nipping at a piece of toast. I guess she's just as troubled in terms of digestion.

As Winnie butters a biscuit she says, "We're almost there, you know. Just a few more hours and we'll be arriving at the station! Oh, just wait until everyone sees you both, darlings, you're absolutely adorable! They're going to love you!"

However, Atticus is the only one so far to see my lack of enthusiasum. Winnie begins a conversation about Capitol fashion with Diamante. He chooses to talk to me.

"I know this is not what you were expecting," he says simply.

I look up at him, mid-bite into a piece of bread.

"You don't think you are beautiful?" He asks, puzzlingly.

I shrug.

"Hm… well maybe your humility will serve you well," he smiles.

I nod slightly, not knowing what to say. So I stare back down at my plate filled with food and start to pick at my eggs with a gleaming silver fork.

"Not much of a talker?" Atticus asks, sipping his tea gingerly.

I shrug, "In District 7 there's not much to talk about… besides lumber and trees."

"But such a lovely voice… do you sing? Do either of you sing?" Winnie interrupts Atticus. She's currently checking her tablet-looking thingy.

"I sang lullaby songs to my sister all the time," I say, thinking it's not a big accomplishment.

Diamante shrugs, "I always hated music class, but singing is fun."

She almost squeals for joy, though. "That's wonderful! Any other talents that we can bring to light?" She's tapping on her tablet furiously now, her bright pink nails clicking as she goes.

I shrug. "Not really…" Even Diamante looks lost and shares a confused glance with me. We don't do much because we… well, we can't.

"How do you run?" Atticus asks, raising his eyes from his tea cup to meet mine casually.

Suddenly, a fear comes upon me… will we be required to fight? Why would I have to run? Isn't this supposed to be a beauty pageant?

"Uh… kind of… why?" I ask nervously.

He says, "Everyone thinks there will be physical competitions too—just for entertainment, of course."

Great. Is that a gentle way of saying that I'll be fighting to the death? His face seems far too serene to be insinuating that, though. Surely he would tell me if I needed to worry about staying alive, correct? I would really hope so. I mean, aren't I a reflection of his work now?

"Well you can't be that out of shape, you are from the lumber district after all," he assumes. But I'm not so sure. I may not be out of shape, dilapidated and hopeless… but I'm not a girl from District 1 or 2.

We sit in silence for the rest of the time, listening to the whooshing noises of the train and eating breakfast. So many tastes fill my mouth that I have to take a break in between bites. There's hot chocolate—something that I've only seen in Violet's family's bakery. She's had it before. Until now, I didn't. It tastes just like the chocolate bar that my father brought home after visiting the black market one Sunday, except in liquid form. It warms me, inside and out and makes me feel a little better.

Suddenly, I have a new favorite drink. Though, all we ever drank was water—milk if we were lucky that month.

The bread here isn't like Violet's either. It's thicker, warmer, softer and tastes like butter—something that is very scarce in District 7. Only certain people near us even knew how to make it. So usually, we just eat it dry.

With all these wonderful things being piled into my stomach I almost forget where I'm going and where I've come from.

I'm going to the Capitol to possibly compete for a marriage to Daivat, President Snow's Grandson. I've come from District 7; where my mother, father, brother and sister are probably still crying their eyes out, thinking they'll never see me again.

Winnie tells us there are outfits waiting for us in the tiny closets in our suites. She tells us to shower first. Though, it's easier said than done—at least for me. When I walk into the shower it's like I'm in the control room of the train. There are so many buttons and settings. I don't know which ones to press so I just press random ones until I get the flow of water that I like, at the temperature I want.

It's relaxing, but only for so long. I realize I have to get out and change. I find a simple navy blue dress waiting for me. The fabric extenuates my tiny waist, making my breasts look more substantial and showing off my legs. The skirt of it stops at my knees, leaving me feeling like I did at the reaping; vulnerable.

When I walk out and back into the common area I find Atticus and Winnie sitting on the couch. Their eyes hit me and light up. I tug at a piece of my full head of hair, made only more voluminous by the hot air that was burst out at it in the shower to dry me.

I hear footsteps behind me and turn around to see Diamante standing there in a light blue dress, which makes her bright blue eyes pop. She looks like a vision of absolute beauty. When she comes to stand beside me I realize just how much taller she is than me. Honestly, I don't know how I compete with such a tall, blonde and beautiful girl like her. Were the gamemakers not wearing their glasses or something?

"Beautiful," Atticus says, standing up. "I cannot wait to see what you two will look like all dolled up! Oh, I just have a wonderful feeling, Winnie," he says in the Capitol drawl.

Winnie nods excitedly. "Ardaigh, you look so beautiful, and Diamante, you are absolutely gorgeous!"

I smile. "You said my name right." The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them.

She raises an eyebrow, as if hearing my voice is a shock. "I did? How do other people pronounce it?"

"All wrong," I say with a shake of my head. "The announcer said it like the last part was, 'die'… it's pronounced like, 'day'… 'are-day'."

"Well then," she smiles, "it's good to know I was right."

I don't even get the chance to answer her because Atticus suddenly says, "We are here!"

Diamante—or Dia, as she told me to call her during breakfast—and I look out the windows to see crowds gathering at the station. I can hear the loud cries and shouts of excitement from inside the train.

"Wow," Dia whispers under her breath. I glance over at her awe-struck face. It's the first time I've seen her totally stunned.

"Ready?" Atticus asks us, waiting patiently.

I give him a shrug and follow him and Winnie towards the door. Peacekeepers immediately surround us. I realize these crowds must be just as big as the Hunger Games audience. After all, people in the Capitol are always looking for a new television show to watch. They're always ready for a new set of young people to cause drama that they can watch with snacks and friends.

Upon leaving the train there's the bright light of the sun on the immaculate buildings of the Capitol. People that I don't even know are screaming my name. I flinch at every camera flash that goes off. So many pictures must already be taken of me, why do they need more?

The four of us are ushered into an auto, which I've only seen once in my part of District 7. It's just as luxurious on the inside as the train was. Even though we have to sit the entire ride, it's complete with drinks and snacks and a mini screen to watch news and current events. Though, no one turns it on, knowing full well what will be re-playing.

The reaping seems like it was ages ago. I don't know why but it seems as if time has been twisted in my mind. I'm not thinking straight anymore. I need to get back to my normal self. Hopefully I will before the interviews that are bound to happen. I need to get myself together.

"First things first, you'll be taken to the make-over center," Winnie says, tapping away at her pad. "You'll get the full treatment and by the end of it you'll be looking fabulous!"

"Then we get to relax?" Dia asks hopefully.

She nods, "For a little while. Then, tomorrow you have your first meeting with Daivat—and President Snow. They get to narrow the sets of girls down to one."

"What?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

She looks to Atticus for help. He says, "You'll be taking a little stroll in the gardens with them. Just a casual interview, that's all."

But the look on my face must be obvious.

"He's not a bad person, Ardaigh," Winnie says suddenly. I really hope that we're not being taped. But just in case, I don't answer back sarcastically.

Dia clears her throat uncomfortably as I simply say, "I know."

We leave it at that until we can get some privacy.

Peacekeepers struggle to get us through the crowds that surround the big building where the Hunger Games tributes are housed and made-over and trained. Once inside, I'm abandoned to be sucked into the make-over center by two girls with matching orange hair and bright green eyes.

"Hi!" One says, "I'm Janie!"

"And I'm Jerri!" Their accents make it sound like the 'j's are 'sh's. Janie, I notice is the one with the birthmark above her lip. I don't see their name tags until they're inches away from me.

I say hi quietly back as the thrust me into a room with a metal operating table and a bunch of equipment. But it's not medical stuff. I see wax. I've only ever used it to get tiny splinters out. It ripped out most of the surrounding hair too. Mother always said that people here use it to get rid of all the hair on their bodies. I always used to think that was stupid because we need our hair to keep warm. It's a survival fact that every District 7 child knows. But now I realize… people here in the Capitol don't need to worry about that.

They rip off—as mother said—hair off of almost every part of my body. They don't even spare me between my legs. That's what hurts the most.

Janie says, "Don't want to see anything if there's a swimsuit contest now do we?"

To which I reply, "What's a swimsuit?"

She just shakes her head and laughs, "You'll find out soon."

Okay, so what _is_ a swimsuit? And why on earth is there a contest for it?

Atticus better spit it out when I get back.

Once the pain and torture is done I'm allowed to see myself. There's a tall mirror in one corner of the room. In my little medical gown, I stand before it. Janie and Jerri leave the room giggling.

My legs are smooth and shiny. The rough, dry, cracked skin is gone. I remember them putting some kind of oil on before and after the waxing. The oil is completely gone now, but I can see that it definitely worked.

The scars on my arms are gone. I remember cooling lotion being put on those. It kind of stung. But now, I see why. There's no trace of bruising or scarring on my body anymore. My skin is healthy and glowing; smooth and silky.

My face is free of the few imperfections I found this morning. They pop up every once in a while. Mother says it's because of the sweating clogging our skin with dirt. Now there's barely a bump.

My almond hair looks different. I see that there are streaks of a lighter hair color in it, like the highlights of blonde that my little sister gets in the summertime except darker. It comforts me a bit and reminds me of her. I'm sure she'll appreciate that. She'll say I look pretty.

There's a knock at the door. "Ardaigh, it's me," Atticus says from outside the door. "You can get dressed in the clothes the girls left you and come out now."

"Okay," I say loud enough for him to hear.

I find a soft, evergreen linen shirt and comfortable pants. They must be my sleep-wear, because I can't imagine doing anything else in them. They're too soft to be day clothes.

Winnie is waiting when I walk out. She smiles, "Beautiful. Now, we can rest."

Atticus smiles warmly as he approaches with Dia by his side. "All ready to go?"

We travel past other make-over rooms where artists like Janie and Jerri are still furiously working on their sets of three girls. We get to casually walk out of there early and go to find our suite.

We're on the ninth floor since the lobby is ground level and the make-over center is the second floor. So, we've got a pretty good view. The first thing I do when we enter the place is rush to the wall made of glass and peer out it. Dia does the same. After all, we've never been this high up before.

I can see everything; the skyline set against the bright afternoon sun; the glimmering water of the fountain in the middle of the Capitol. The mountains in the distance. Every building is shining in the glow of the light. Everything here looks so pure and magnificent. However, in reality I know that this is just a cover for the cold, malicious citizens that live here.

So, we get to rest for the rest of the evening. After dinner we sit in the living area and turn on the huge screen. The news is on, with Caesar Flickerman's smiling face telling us about Katniss and Peeta's tour—among other topics that seem unimportant to me. Though, I would like to meet Katniss and Peeta.

"One of us will get to meet him," Dia says, staring up at the screen in awe. I'm guessing she's a huge Flickerman fan. Although, who doesn't like him? He's a great person, unlike other seriously pathetic human beings that live here.

Winnie breaks my train of thought, suddenly saying, "Stop biting your lip, Ardaigh."

I realize I'm biting my lip—a nasty habit that occurs when I'm under stress. She scolds me, "Here try some more lip balm."

I take it from her and roll it across my upper and lower lip. Then, I turn to Atticus and ask, "Y—you said Snow was going to be there tomorrow?"

He nods. I see Dia tense up beside me. She turns her attention away from the TV and onto him.

He answers with a nod, "Yes. He is going to be involved with the decision making, also."

Well, that's just great.

I'm going to meet the sadistic man, who is the direct reason for the people in my district's suffering.

I guess I'll have to restrain myself from killing him with my own bare hands.

**Sorry if this chapter is sort of short, but it's more of a connecting chapter lol what did you think? :D Are you ready to meet Daivat?**


	5. A Walk In The Garden

**Hi there :D just for reference, Daivat is prounced day-vat (if said really fast it can sound like David). That is all ^_^ enjoy the chapter!**

"Wake up, sleepyhead! Today is the day!" Winnie nearly blasts out my eardrum waking me up. I realize I've overslept and apologize. She tells me Dia did, too so I don't feel as bad.

We sit down as usual and begin breakfast. Dia is her usual talkative self, having a conversation with Winnie about the latest trends in fashion, which I couldn't understand even if I tried. So, Atticus and I talk about different things, like the view from my window. He tells me all about the mountains surrounding the Capitol and how they used to be called, "The Rockies".

Our history discussion is interrupted by Winnie saying, "Oh! Look at the time! We need to get you both ready! They begin the lineup in an hour!"

And so, we're rudely pushed into our showers. When we come out, blow dried and looking ten times better, she hands us each a dress and a pair of white, flat shoes almost like the ballet slippers that dancers wear on TV—except in actual shoe form. They're pretty and even have a little bow on them. These I can live with.

Though, I'm most likely going home tonight anyways, so what does my opinion in clothing matter?

I slip into the black dress—the same one she gave Diamante. Except, when I see Dia in it, I immediately laugh at myself for thinking I would look even close to as beautiful as her. Sure, it makes me look curvy and pretty—but it makes Dia look gorgeous.

There's a definite difference.

Without makeup or our hair done, we walk out of the suite and head for wherever Atticus is taking us. He briefs us on the way down, saying that we will talk to Daivat first, then President Snow will be waiting somewhere in the garden to converse with us and then we will be escorted out.

As we enter the 'holding' area my fierceness and anger from last night turns to complete terror.

I'm meeting President Snow. As in… our ruler… as in…

"I think I'm going to be sick," a red-headed girl beside me says. On my other side, I hear Dia sigh and spot her roll her eyes. She's not even flinching.

In fact, I notice that the girls going up first—the ones from Districts 1 and 2—aren't nervous at all. They inspect their perfectly well-kept nails, as if this is a normal thing for them. They casually talk to one another. Though, one conversation almost turns violent when someone snaps an insult at another girl. Dia, the red-head and I all flinch back and sink lower into our seats even after the little quarrel is over.

And here I thought Dia was going to be a vicious competitor. When she found out I didn't care about winning, she turned into the nicest girl alive. I wonder if she would have treated me like that if I had said I wanted to win…

"You're Ardaigh, right?" The red-head beside me asks.

Jostled from my thoughts, I answer, "Oh, um, yeah… and you're…?"

I should have paid more attention to the replays.

"Jessabelle," she says. We shake hands before she introduces herself to Dia. I remember her after a few seconds of hard thinking. She's one of the two from District 10.

We talk about the ride here. She tells us about her cows and we tell her about our trees. I guess that's really all people from different districts talk about; their districts specialties. I mean, what else are we going to talk about? The fact that we're coming face-to-face with President Snow not long from now? We avoid that subject completely. By the time her name is called, Dia and I are far more relaxed than before we talked. Maybe mom is right. Talking can be good for your spirit.

"Diamante Buckley!" A woman in a bright green dress and the tallest heels I've ever seen shouts out her name. She gives me a slight smile before walking away, and leaving me all alone.

This is not good. Now, I'm thinking about things again. What will Daivat be like? Is he nice? Will I get to go home? I don't want to die. Will they kill me if he doesn't pick me? I hope not. What about Snow? I don't want to meet him. Whoever said anything about that? There's no reason for me to have to face that man. He makes me sick.

I think _I'm_ going to be sick by the time my name is called. My mind is racing, but I force myself to think straight. Getting up from my seat, I feel everyone's gaze on me. The woman leads me out a door and straight into blinding sunlight. Flinching, I stumble back a bit.

The door slams shut behind me, leaving me blinded and alone in the entrance to a lush, beautiful garden.

Or so I think.

I hear a deep chuckle and look around in confusion.

A male voice says, "Same reaction every time… maybe I should tell them to turn some lights on in there."

I turn my head to the voice at my right and see Daivat emerging from a small pathway. He's dressed in normal attire for a Capitol politician; button up shirt and black pants. His dark blonde hair is perfectly in place and his blue eyes are wide and awake; ready to fluster me.

"The sun is blinding here in the spring," he smiles that dazzling smile and I can't help but turn pink. "Shall we?" He asks, motioning towards the path in front of me.

We begin to walk. He seems amused as he says, "You looked the most stunned out of all of them."

I glance up at him, but don't know what to say. When I don't reply, he responds, "Why are you so shocked you're here?"

I open my mouth, but it seems to go dry. The nerves balling up in my gut won't let me speak. His prescience is too overwhelming. But, I manage to squeak out, "I—I don't know."

"I was told by the evaluator you had that he picked you because of your eyes. I have to say, I think they look more beautiful in person." His voice sends a shiver down my spine but I can't figure out why.

"Thank you," I try to speak louder, but even that only comes out as a whisper.

As I become transfixed on a butterfly fluttering around us as we walk, he says, "I know you don't want to be here."

It catches me off guard, sending my heart into a race. Once again, I don't know what to say, so I remain quiet and he continues.

"But I want you here."

"What?"

Atticus is right. I have a really bad habit of blurting that out at times.

He laughs slightly, "There's something about you that I can't quite put my finger on yet, Ardaigh. But, I know I'll figure out what it is sooner or later."

We stop at a beautiful bush of red roses. He gingerly plucks one off and takes my hand.

"But, for now," he places the stem in my grasp. I feel my cheeks burning with heat after he kisses me on one. I can feel his breath down my neck as he states in a low voice, "You have my attention, Ardaigh."

Shocked and barely able to respond, move or do much of anything, he pushes me by the small of my back towards a path to the right of the bush. My shaking legs make it far enough to see none other than President Snow himself, sitting on a bench underneath a beautiful tree, blooming with pink flowers. I notice two peacekeepers off to the side. He waves his hand and they disappear into the shrubbery.

He pats the bench beside him, "Ah, Ardaigh is it? Please, have a seat."

Trembling, I ease myself down onto the cushioned bench, still clutching the rose in my hands. The overwhelming scent of roses catches my senses. There's another, less pleasant scent that I can't seem to put a name to, but it's definitely not something I would expect to smell in a garden. It has a metallic element to it that makes me not want to breathe. But, I keep my composure and try to ignore it.

I can feel his hard stare on me, so I gather every ounce of courage I have and look up—straight into those cold blue eyes. They aren't like Daivat's. They show no sign of warmth or kindness. What I saw; the twinkle in Daivat's eyes is not there in President Snow's.

He smiles—yes, _smiles_—and says, "You are aware that your name means 'beautiful rose' in another language, correct?"

I nod, glancing down at the rose in my lap. He continues, "Happens to be my favorite flower—and you, my favorite tribute."

Warmth rushes into my cheeks as I reply, "Thank you."

"Do you know _why_ I simply adore you?" He asks, looking out towards the gurgling fountain just across the pathway.

I look up at him, curious and a bit confused. A small smile plays across his lips as he says, "Because you remind me of my wife."

I can't disguise my shock. I mean, I know he must have had a wife at some point in order to have children, which led to him having Daivat but… I never really considered that he had ever actually loved someone. Could it be that he _did_ marry out of love? Is that so impossible?

"Quiet, soft-spoken," he continues. "A very good listener… The complete opposite of me at the time, actually… I was intrigued by her… in the same way that my grandson is fascinated by you."

Unexpectedly, he turns his head back, locking eyes with me. For a moment, I see glimpse of something; some fleeting look in his eyes. It's the first sign that he actually has emotions. Though, I can't overcome the uneasy feeling.

I notice he's holding a white rose—probably taken from the low branch just behind the bench (when I wasn't paying any attention). He holds it out to me and I take it, gingerly holding it with my red one from Daivat.

"I do hope I see you again, Miss. Fyrn… in fact, I think I already know that I will," he looks to his right and I see a peacekeeper standing there.

I nod slightly and even manage a smile, which he seems to mirror back, in a strange sort of way. I say, "Thank you" and then follow the peacekeeper down another trail and out of the garden. Atticus is waiting for me there.

When I lock eyes with him he smiles. "How did it go?"

"Fine," I whisper, glancing down at my roses. He does the same as we begin our trek back to the suite.

All is relatively calm until we enter the suite and find about a dozen people rushing about. As I stumble backwards, startled by a woman dashing past me with a jar of glitter in her hands, Atticus says, "Stylists. They're here to prep you for the ceremony tonight."

"Ceremony?"

"Why yes," he chuckles, "Daivat is choosing the eleven finalists tonight."

I don't have time to respond to him, though. A very loud and obnoxious man grabs my arm and pulls me away. He forces me into a chair and asks, "How do you feel about the natural look?"

I shrug, not completely knowing what that means. I'm guessing it means less makeup. So, I nod. "Sounds… good."

"Great," he grins, rushing away, his orange suit glimmering in the light as he goes.

**Sooooo what do yoyu guys think? :) I'm most likely going to go back and edit this sometime in the near future, but for now I think it's a pretty good chapter. By the way, feel free to give me ideas (I need to think of things for the girls to do besides walking down a runway in a fancy gown).**

**Keep reading & commenting! It is very much appreciated! 3 - NicolettaKatherine**


	6. Narrowed Down

I stare at the girl in the mirror, mesmerized by what I see. This girl has flowing, full, long wavy hair that glows under the lights of the vanity. This girl has eyes as big as a doe's that glisten and twinkle; a deep shade of blue. This girl has curves; a petite and feminine frame. This girl wears a dark blue, almost black dress that shimmers as she moves with the light of thousands of crystals sewn onto it. This girl wears heels and barely falters her steps—after much practice.

Can she really be… _me?_

"Elegant; classy; I love it!" One of the girls squeals. I hear Atticus say something in agreement before they lead me out into the sitting area. Diamante is there, too.

Her bright blue eyes pop as she smiles warmly at me. Her beauty almost stuns me for a moment and makes me forget that I look just as pretty (okay, maybe a little less). The tightly fitted bluish-greenish dress clings to her body up until her knees and then billows out in tufts, while mine is tight through the abdomen and flows out at the hips.

It's safe to say that hers is a tad bit sexier than mine.

"You look great, Ardaigh," she says in a cheerful tone of voice.

I crack a smile and reply, "Thanks… you look amazing."

"Thanks!"

"Alright, now we need to get going," Atticus says with a broad grin. "They are lining up as we speak."

We travel the long way through connecting tunnels and corridors and such until we reach the building that Caesar Flickerman uses for his shows. They line us up against a wall and we are taken out onto the stage by our District. I watch as the show begins and District 1—all three girls—walk out gracefully onto the stage. Their dresses are bright, showy and glamorous; something you'd expect from their District.

All three have heads of luscious blonde hair—though, one has hers pinned up into an elaborate updo involving glitter and braids. Their bodies are that of grown women; they're probably all twenty (the limit that Daivat set). I honestly don't know why I'm even here right now. I felt confident until they walked out onto the stage.

"And now for the big reveal," Caesar says, building the suspense. He looks towards Daivat, who is standing near the chair opposite of him. The blondes shift in their places as he walks closer; a pink rose in his grasp.

"You all received at least one rose this afternoon… that was how we narrowed down the field," he says as their eyes grow wider. "The one that receives this," he holds the pink one up, "will move on in the competition."

He pauses for a moment, still smiling before he hands the rose to the girl on the far right—the one with flowing blonde hair that nearly hits her backend. She puts on a face of feigned shock and jumps up and down a little in the tall heels her stylists strapped her into. Then, she calmly exchanges a kiss on the cheek with him.

"And we have our tribute from District 1, people!" Caesar exclaims, flashing his signature grin. "Miss. Emerald Glamour!"

The crowd roars to an ear-piercing level, even through the TV screen. Obviously the crowd has their favorites.

District 2's winner is feisty, spirited eighteen year old girl with a very short brown hair, curled up at the sides. She's pretty in a strange sort of way, like a fairy from the picture books my dad used to scrap up from the local black market for me and Amelie. I think she might be shorter than me, but can't tell because of the high heels she's wearing to go with her extremely short dress.

District 3's girl has blonde hair, too but it's shoulder length and not as, how do you say, bright as Emerald's. The rest of the girls are all uniquely beautiful in their own way. Most of their names escape me.

When it's Diamante's and my turn we're led up a flight of short stairs and pushed onto the stage. The voice of Caesar greets us as we walk as gracefully as possible across the glimmering floor.

"Ah, and now we have the two lovely tributes from District 7!" He says joyfully. My eyes skip from him to the crowd. However, I'm so blinded by the spotlights that I have to look back at him. Then, I glance at Daivat, who I can feel staring at me. I focus on Caesar in order not to look in Daivat's eyes.

"The choice is between the ever so beautiful Ardaigh Fyrn and the stunning Diamante Buckley," Caesar says, glancing over at Daivat.

My eyes, as if they have a mind of their own, flicker over to Daivat. I meet his gaze as he walks over, the auditorium falling silent with suspense. Only the sound of his shoes clicking against the stone floor can be heard.

When he reaches us he hesitates for a moment, smiling out at the crowd. They seem to be collectively holding their breaths. You can hear a pin drop.

I glance out at them and when I look back up at him, he holds the rose out. The crowd roars and it takes me a second to realize that he's holding it in front of _me._ He's standing in front of _me._ ME.

I hear Diamante clear her throat as my trembling hand takes hold of the rose. He bends down and kisses my cheek—for the second time. That makes the crowd cheer even louder. My mind swirls and my head spins. I feel faint as Diamante takes her leave, walking across the stage to the other side. Caesar takes my hand and holds it up with his, much like he does with the others.

"We have our official District 7 Tribute! Miss. Ardaigh Fyrn!"

He voice booms through the speakers and echoes through my head.

Me. I'm staying. Dia is leaving. This can't be happening.

"I will see you soon my dear," Caesar says softly, so as not to let the microphone pick it up. He gives me a quick kiss on the back of the hand before guiding me around him. I hurry off the stage as swiftly as possible, the pink rose still clutched in my hand.

Atticus is waiting for me, while Winnie tries to comfort Dia.

"Dia," I whisper as Atticus attempts to congratulate me. Instead of returning the smile he gives me, I push past him and arrive at Winnie and Dia's side.

"Dia, I'm so sorry I—you—you should be here not me," I babble mindlessly as Dia cries into Winnie's shoulder. She simply waves me off.

Winnie goes to speak but Dia cuts her off. Her voice cracks and trembles as she replies, "I know you didn't mean it, Ardaigh but please… please win for us."

Us? Does she mean the two of us? Or the District? What is she talking about?

Before I get the chance to ask her two peacekeepers and two avoxes appear. One of the peacekeepers says, "We are to escort you back up to your suite. You may gather your things and then come with us." They're addressing Dia—or at least trying to.

Atticus, Winnie and I share a confused look, while Dia just keeps sobbing. We obey and follow them back up. While I'm allowed to go get ready for bed, Dia has to gather the few things she has and leave. I give her a long, warm embrace before I'm forced to go shower. Atticus told me she'll be moving into another building and will take on a career as a model or something. However, I think she'd rather be home—even she can't hide her homesickness.

"It's okay, Dia you'll be fine. You're stronger than me," I insist before she's pulled away from me. I feel suddenly attached to her. I mean, she was a good friend for these past two days. Or at the very least she was a fair competitor. She didn't viciously attack me or anything. She was actually very pleasant. I would have liked to have her as a friend.

I take a shower, all the while replaying the events in my head. When I walk back out into my bedroom the rose is sitting there—actually, all three are—on the bed, staring back at me. An avox is pulling my covers back for me. I smile at her, but she can only nod. As I slip into a pair of black sleeping pants and a dark blue top, she takes the roses. She leaves the room, but comes back minutes later with all three of them; white, red and pink in a tiny white vase.

I don't know why but it makes me smile. She stands there beside my bedside table, where she put the flowers. It takes me a moment to realize that I have to dismiss her.

"You can go. Thank you," I nod with a smaller smile this time. She seems startled that I thanked her and leaves in a hurry.

Atticus enters, with Winnie close behind him. He says, "Congratulations, Ardaigh."

I shift uncomfortably. He clears his throat.

"Now, I know this might be a bit much for you to handle right now, but Daivat is going to be doing nightly rounds from now on. Just saying goodnight and getting to know you girls a little more," he explains as I stand there with my jaw almost on the ground.

"What?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

"Ardaigh," Winnie scolds. "What did I say about that?"

I give her a roll of my eyes before turning back to Atticus, who says, "Don't worry, dear you'll be fine. Just come out here and wait for him."

Hesitantly, I follow them out and sit down on the couch in the sitting area. I don't know how long I sit there, my mind racing and my heart pounding—but it sure seems like a long time. Both Atticus and Winnie are unsuccessful in trying to get me out of the haze I'm in. Then, as soon as the front door opens, they leave in a hurry. I stand, seeing Daivat enter. Suddenly, I'm thrust back into reality.

He chuckles lightly, "Please, sit," he waves his hand.

I sit back down and he takes a seat beside me. I notice he's in surprisingly normal clothes now—a plain white t-shirt and black cotton pants.

"You looked absolutely beautiful out there tonight," he compliments. I look up and meet his eyes. He smiles as he says, "but I think you're even more beautiful without all the glitter and sparkle—I'm not a huge fan of the fashions around here, so it's nice to see a naturally beautiful face for once."

My face heats up with blush. I quickly duck my head down, but he sees it anyway.

"Thank you," I answer quietly, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

"You're so cute when you blush," he comments, chuckling slightly. That makes me blush even harder.

"But really," his tone becomes serious as he asks, "Why are you so surprised that you're still here?"

The question flusters me, and I stutter, "I—um—I just didn't think that… that I would be… um…"

"Pretty enough?" He finishes the statement for me. Then he laughs, "You more than pretty enough—and I'm not just talking about your beautiful face."

My eyebrows knit together in confusion. I look up at him again. He explains, "You don't talk to me with an attitude—or like you're trying to fill a job position… in fact, you barely talk to me at all, which leads me to believe that you're a quiet girl… and the type that hasn't said a nasty word to anyone in her entire life. Am I right?" He asks at the end, wincing as if he's not sure.

I laugh. I actually laugh; only slightly and softly but still, it's a laugh. At first, he raises his eyebrows in concern, like I've gone crazy.

"Yes," I answer. I swallow hard and continue to talk. "And… I'm just too used to peace and quiet to be here…"

"I know," he admits with a smile. "But… I want you here… you're refreshing. All the others are either to pushy or too terrified of me."

I let out a puff of laughter. He gives me a look and I turn my gaze to my hands.

"I was scared of you," I admit before I can stop myself. My cheeks heat up drastically as I realize what I've just admitted, so I keep my focus on my hands.

There's a pause of silence. I can feel him staring at me. His gaze is so intense that I'm beginning to feel naked in these thin pajamas.

"Ardaigh," he says softly, "Please don't be afraid of me. There are too many people that already are. I don't want you to be one of them."

My bite my lip, contemplating what to say next. I explain, "I'm not… anymore."

When I look back up at his burning stare he smiles. The brightness in his eyes return. I feel him take hold of my hand, squeezing it gently.

"Good," he replies, "I wish you luck for tomorrow."

I'm stunned when he lightly kisses my cheek; that's the third time in one day.

"Goodnight, Ardaigh," he says gently, standing and taking his leave.

And I'm left sitting here, with my fingers absentmindedly touching the place he kissed on my cheek. My skin still feels flushed and my palms are sweaty. There's the familiar prickly feeling in my gut; the same one I felt when I first met him.

All the while I'm trying to shake off the crazy thoughts running through my head at warp speed.

Among those thoughts is the crazy notion that I might—I just might… win this thing.

I need to stop thinking. I need sleep. And most of all, I need all the courage and bravery that I can muster from now on.

Because if it's one thing I know about the competitions that the Capitol has for the people of the Districts… it's that they're never easy.

**Why hello there! :D haven't spoken to you guys in a while. I'm terribly sorry I really do apologize but now that my first year of college is done I can focus on my hobbies (such as this). Thank you so much for reading and favoriting. Comments are welcome, as always and I appreciate them very much! Thank you once again :) 3 hopefully the next update will be soon. **

P.S. Sorry for how crappily written the end is :/ once again I was forced to finish writing it while I was on break at work lol


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